Collected Poems - Sri Aurobindo Ashram

30 England and Baroda, 1883 – 1898
I looked upon your face, the book of sighs
And index to incurable unrest.
I rose and kissed you, sweet. Your lips were warm
And drew my heart out like a witch’s charm.
We parted where the sacred spires arose
In silent power above the silent street.
I saw you mid the rose-trees, O white rose,
Linger a moment, then the dusk defeat
My eyes, and, listening, heard your footsteps fade
On the sad leaves of the autumnal glade.
And were you happy, sweet? In me I know —
For either in my blood the autumn sang
His own pale requiem or that new sweet glow
Failed in the light of bitter knowledge — rang
A voice that said, “Behold the loves too pure
To live, the joy that never shall endure.”
This too I know, nor is my hope so bright
But that it sees its autumn cold and sere
Attending with a pale and solemn light
Beyond the gardens of the vernal year.
Yet will I not my weary heart constrain
But take you, sweet, and sweet surcease from pain.
The Island Grave
Ocean is there and evening; the slow moan
Of the blue waves that like a shaken robe
Two heard together once, one hears alone.
Now gliding white and hushed towards our globe
Keen January with cold eyes and clear
And snowdrops pendent in each frosty lobe